


Observer Effect

by Square Pudding (Square_Pudding)



Series: Observer Effect [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 2000 years of privacy invasion, 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Bad Matchmaking, Bad lipreading, Crowley and Aziraphale's free will rubbing off on others, Epistolary, Historical book burning, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, POV Outsider, Reckless disregard for one's corporeal form, Shipper on Deck, Should be both book and TV canon compliant, Slow Burn, Surveillance, The Regency chocolates scene, exchanging gifts, first kiss (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 15:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Square_Pudding/pseuds/Square%20Pudding
Summary: Heaven dispatches a Grigori to monitor any "suspicious activity" between Aziraphale and a certain agent of Hell.





	Observer Effect

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is inspired by [this wonderful tweet](https://twitter.com/stereoroo/status/1148652906305982465) by stereoroo:
> 
> "there is a real unsung hero in good omens and it’s the angel who took paparazzi photos of aziraphale and crowley for 6000 years and didn’t say anything about it until they absolutely had to"
> 
> I narrowed it to 2000 years for my sanity (and because it's already long enough). Many thanks to Doxy and Thene for the beta!

**To:** Raguel  
**From:** Me  
**CC:** Zophiel, Raziel, Michael [+5 others]  
**Sent:** August XXth 2019 08:34 AM UTC  
**Subject: Re: Re: Re: Earth policy enforcement**

Your Radiances,

As requested, I am hereby turning over all materials related to the surveillance of Subject 110-2124-Upsilon, designation Aziraphale, Principality, Eastern Gate, and his contact with known demonic agent Crowley. Please find herein three eidetic transcriptions (“photographs” in human parlance) as well as pertinent log entries.

It is my hope that the Circle of Archangels will take into account that I am submitting these documents voluntarily, with full awareness of how they might reflect on my person.

Yours,

Rezathaniel, Grigori, Special Reconnaissance Division

* * *

**Log Entry #1  
** **Date: 33 AD, April**

While bearing witness at Golgotha, subject was approached by demonic forces, likely with intent to instigate. Subject did not break cover. However, subject also did not attempt to dispel the demonic agent known as Crawly (sp?) by any apparent means, instead intercoursing with the fiend for several minutes.

Due to the crowd density, I was unable to position myself in such a way so as to capture the content of the conversation. As the sun set, demonic agent observed inviting subject for “a drink.” Subject, appearing distracted, took an inappropriate 11.5 seconds to decline.

It is unknown whether this behavior is the result of habituation to demonic influences or of an intrinsic weak will. Nevertheless, there is now documented evidence of the subject violating Principality Contingency By-law 6724 Section Sigma Article ii regarding confrontation of adversarial agents in the field.

I will continue observation.

**Log Entry #12  
** **Date: 41 AD, September**

Subject observed consuming gross matter alongside demonic forces in a human establishment. Oysters accompanied by something called “whine,” a liquid of unknown properties. Continued imbibing of this substance caused both subject and demonic agent to behave erratically and begin laughing.

Demonic agent then accompanied subject to just outside subject’s earthly residence. Fiend suggested joining subject inside. Subject returned to his senses and politely cast the demon out. Demon then appeared overcome with a great thirst, for he returned to the human establishment and continued drinking until morning.

**Log Entry #29  
** **Date: 201 AD, August**

Subject observed assisting human salvage efforts following destruction of a church by flood waters. Contrary to field agent protocol, the subject displayed fatigue after several hours of labor and begged off to rest himself under a nearby tree. He was joined by the forces of the Great Adversary, who likewise complained of the heat.

Subject inquired if demonic forces were the cause of the recent weather. Demonic agent (hereafter, Crowley) disclaimed involvement, insisting that it was much too humid to be “mucking about with storms and whatnot.” Subject accepted this explanation with irregular speed and the conversation topic changed to manners of dress -- namely, whether dark-colored or light-colored robes were “better for the skin” during summer months. Crowley proposed that the subject hem several inches off the bottom of his robes for airflow, a lustful notion that subject appeared to seriously consider for 1 minute and 28 seconds before summarily rejecting.

**Log Entry #89  
** **Date: 820 AD, December**

Subject has established semi-permanent residence in Constantinople and is observed in irregular contact with the demon agent Crowley, often at social functions. On at least three of these occasions, Crowley invited the subject to something known as a “dance,” which the subject declined.

On the most recent of these encounters, I witnessed the demon Crowley successfully plying the subject with liquids, after which the fiend succeeded in lacing fingers with the subject and guiding him around in intricate, surely Satanic patterns. He persisted even though the subject stepped on his feet several times. Just as I was about to suspend observation to call in an emergency audience with my reporting archangel, I witnessed the subject break away from Crowley and depart the premises. Though I was concerned this would leave the human residents of the dwelling exposed to demonic influence, the villain Crowley removed himself soon after, vanishing into the night with a bottle of inebriating substance stolen from the humans’ cellar.

ADDENDUM:

At around 3 am following the above incident, the demon Crowley appeared outside the subject’s earthly residence with a hired band of human musicians. The humans performed profane music for the better part of an hour before the subject appeared in the doorway and told the demon off.

**Log Entry #189  
** **Date: 1204 AD, April**

Subject observed in distress as he entered a large human structure known as a “lye-brary,” which must -- as its name suggests -- be especially flammable, as this was the third occasion since other humans began attacking the city that it has been put to flame. Within minutes, subject emerged singed and bearing an armful of books and scrolls, which he deposited into the hands of a human bystander before returning to the building. Subject enacted this routine three more times until the injury to his corporeal form grew severe, whereupon he fell amidst the wreckage and could not seem to right himself.

In accordance with Grigori observation protocols, I did not intervene. However, after several minutes, during which time the subject’s body appeared inert and smoldering, demonic forces entered the lye-brary and retrieved the subject right from under my attention.

I am ashamed to say it took me almost a quarter of an hour to locate the subject. I eventually found him at the far end of the city, still held in the demon’s possession. The subject’s earthly vessel had been repaired by some unholy miracle and he was weeping, I assumed because he had found himself in the grip of his greatest enemy.

Their ensuing conversation gave lie to that theory. What follows is a partial transcription.

> **Subject:** I missed Alexandria, you know. All those records simply _ lost_. I told myself that if I were in a position to save something this time--
> 
> **Crowley:** Then why not miracle them out, for hell’s sake? Or douse the fire altogether? Why risk your body over a bunch of books?
> 
> **Subject:** Because it’s selfish! It’s, it’s materialistic of me, to interfere like that. I could never justify using a miracle for this sort of thing. I shouldn’t even care about it…
> 
> **Crowley:** Bollocks to that, you’re designed to care about this stuff, aren’t you? That’s what a Principality _ is_. Only a real sadist sends an angel of knowledge down to Earth and then says, right, hands off, if humans want to set themselves back a couple thousand years it’s no business of ours--
> 
> **Subject:** I don’t need lectures on my profession from a demon! For all I know, this entire mess is your doing.
> 
> **Crowley:** Your people are the ones who thought up this whole bloody Crusades business. It’s got nothing to do with me.
> 
> **Subject:** _My_ people? I can assure you--
> 
> **Crowley:** Please. It’s got your man on it and everything.
> 
> **Subject:** The first one might’ve been ours, I’m not sure. But I certainly didn’t hear anything about greenlighting all these… _ sequels_. They’ve come up with those all on their own.
> 
> **Crowley:** Well, it’s ruining the city’s nightlife, I can tell you that. You’re lucky I was even in the area. I’m ‘sposed to be halfway to China right now -- got to inspire some new technology called a ‘gonne.’
> 
> **Subject:** Bully for you.
> 
> **Crowley:** Listen, I just spared you an awful lot of paperwork. Pain in the arse, discorporating. Happened to me twice now. Lads in Accounting never let me hear the end of it. What was I ‘sposed to tell them, that I got crushed by a stone pillar whilst performing a _ holy miracle _ in Baghdad?
> 
> **Subject:** Stop it! Stop. Don’t you dare throw our Arrangement back in my face, not now. It was your wretched idea in the first place.
> 
> **Crowley:** I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. I don’t even know why I bother. Should’ve left you in that fire.
> 
> **Subject:** Yes, perhaps you should have.
> 
> [long silence]
> 
> **Subject:** Tell me you’ve got something to drink.

Note: First attestation to “Arrangement” in my records.

**Log Entry #333  
** **Date: 1601 AD, May**

Using a celestial sketch pad, I have mastered a method by which to capture the likeness of individuals as though by one’s own eye. After several abortive attempts -- during which the subject and the demon Crowley moved too quickly for me to accurately take down the image -- I succeeded in producing the attached eidetic transcription.

ATTACHED: [Subject standing in close proximity to known demonic agent Crowley while attending a human activity known as a ‘Ham-lette.’]

**Log Entry #401  
** **Date: 1800 AD, November**

Demon Crowley observed outside the premises of the subject’s new base of operations just as subject was visited by two higher celestial authorities, whom I shall designate Individual 1 and Individual 2. The agent of evil attempted repeatedly to attract the subject’s attention in a likely bid to disrupt the holy meeting.

After failing to lure the subject out into the street using a package of confections, the demon Crowley pursued Individual 1 and Individual 2 to a nearby couturier. I was unable to get close enough to ascertain whether the fiend made contact with Individual 1 or Individual 2, but several minutes later, both celestial authorities returned to the subject’s base of operations and summarily retracted a promotion they had just extended to the subject.

Individual 1 and Individual 2 then demanifested. Moments later, the demon Crowley returned, bearing the same packaged confections as before. Subject questioned whether the demon had intimidated Individual 1 into reversing his decision. Crowley disclaimed involvement and suggested the two have drinks that evening to celebrate the opening of the subject’s “book-shop.” Subject declined and again accused the dark agent of meddling.

An argument ensued. Finally, the demon Crowley deposited the package of confections on a nearby table and departed the premises, announcing loudly that he had many better things to occupy his time with. The subject was later observed eating the contents of the package one at a time while looking expectantly out a window.

**Log Entry #402  
** **Date: 1827 AD, December**

After the great pains taken to develop my eidetic sketch technique, it appears humans have been struck by the same heavenly inspiration, creating a wonderful device known as a _ camera obscura_. Should the quality of the _ camera obscura_’s “photon-graphs” improve, I will consider adopting them in place of my current, admittedly far more labor-intensive technique.

It _ would _ be nice to give the old drawing wrist a break now and then. That said, I’ve grown sort of fond of my sketch method. The pictures are crisper and more accurate than the humans’ photon-graphs, which all look like you’re viewing something through the bottom of a glass. And there’s a certain… pleasure in the activity itself. I sometimes find myself producing images even when the subject isn’t in the midst of a policy violation.

As an aside, the demon Crowley has remained dormant for more than two decades. I have not investigated the matter. At first, the subject appeared agitated by this change in routine, but has since resumed his duties.

**Log Entry #403  
** **Date: 1854 AD, August**

The demon Crowley has now remained dormant for half a century. Twice I have tracked the subject calling upon the demon’s earthly domicile, to no response from within.

Though he remains active, subject has entered into a prolonged state of melancholy which deleteriously affects his work. He performs few good deeds, and those he does perform are substandard. Just today I witnessed him trying to inspire a physician toward a medical breakthrough, only for him to spend most of the encounter complaining to the human about the poor quality water pumps in his neighborhood.

**Log Entry #404  
** **Date: 1862 AD, March**

The demon Crowley has awoken from his dread slumber and made contact once more with the subject. I tracked the infernal creature to their meeting location with a three-legged _ camera obscura _ contraption, but my attempts to prepare the daguerreotype plates met with failure. By the time I returned with my celestial sketch pad, the meeting between the subject and the demonic agent had almost concluded.

I worked quickly and managed to capture the likeness of both figures. Soon after, I observed the subject and Crowley quarreling. The two parted ways and I have seen them make no further attempt at contact.

ATTACHED: [Subject standing in close proximity to known demonic agent Crowley in a garden belonging to a human named James. Please note: the objects upon their heads are hats and not extensions of their hair.]

**Log Entry #405  
** **Date: 1888 AD, December**

Subject observed participating in a human ritual known as a “Gavought.” I suspected demonic involvement, but could detect nothing on my equipment.

In fact, subject has had no contact with the demon Crowley for more than 20 years, despite both operating out of the same city. In the past it would not be irregular for them to go many centuries between meetings, but for whatever reason the absences feel more pronounced now.

Mayhaps it’s because the city is growing denser and humans’ lives have become faster. I don’t mean they die younger -- actually they’ve been making a fantastic comeback in that area -- but technology has complicated everything. Messages which might once have taken weeks or months to arrive now take a matter of hours. I’ve even observed the subject sending and receiving some of these these “teller-grahams,” usually to inquire about rare books. His collection has grown so expansive that he’s begun slightly bending the physics of the building to accommodate more shelves than it should ordinarily allow.

At any rate, the subject’s fondness for books is well-documented. As long as the subject is faithfully carrying out his duties, there’s no need for me to keep logging these observations. I will update if and when there is a new development.

**Log Entry #406  
** **Date: 1941 AD, May**

There is a new development.

Tonight I witnessed the demon Crowley command the destruction of a holy church in which the subject resided -- a dramatic act of aggression. In response, the subject performed a miracle to preserve his corporeal form, after which I was certain the subject would enact Principality Contingency By-law 6724 Section Sigma Article ii and smite his foe where he stood.

Instead, I observed the subject follow Crowley to his infernal metal transport (hereafter, “car”). The two rode in silence for many minutes, arriving finally at the subject’s bookshop. In spite of the widespread destruction of the city around them, the shop has remained untouched due to what I sense to be several powerful wards of protection around the building.

Subject exited the demon’s car and spoke briefly with him. Transcription follows below.

> **Crowley:** Forgetting anything?
> 
> **Subject:** Oh! Right. Yes. Thank you. That would be a real clanger, wouldn’t it, after all the trouble you went to.
> 
> [subject retrieves a large bag from the rear seat of the car]
> 
> **Subject:** I don’t suppose I could interest you in a little nightcap, long as you’re here?
> 
> **Crowley:** Nightcap? Angel, the city’s a warzone, in case you haven’t noticed.
> 
> **Subject:** Bit hard to miss.
> 
> **Crowley:** I’m already looking at a commendation for destroying a church tonight; like heaven I’m going to hang round waiting for one of these Kraut bomber idiots to put a scratch on the car as well. You should be getting out too, angel. Don’t tell me your shop can’t get by without you. You’ve got this building blessed up so much it’s hard to look at.
> 
> **Subject:** Ah, I really shouldn’t leave London. A few miraculous near brushes with death to ensure, you know how it is.
> 
> **Crowley:** _Know how it is?_
> 
> **Subject:** Yes, er… Point taken. Oh, but _ do _ let me offer you a cup of tea or something, before you go? Please, Crowley. If it’s a matter of the blessings around the shop, I suppose I can tone it down a little-- Wouldn’t want you burning your feet any more tonight--
> 
> **Crowley:** _No._ I’m headed back to Morocco, which is where I was till you decided to indulge in this little spot of good old-fashioned British patriotism. 
> 
> [Crowley re-enters his car]
> 
> **Crowley:** You want to drink and catch up, find me there.
> 
> **Subject:** I really shouldn’t--
> 
> **Crowley:** Good night, angel.
> 
> **Subject:** Crowley… There’s something I still need to tell [inaudible]

The demon Crowley cast his black magics on his car again, bringing its menacing engine to life, which rendered the remainder of the exchange untranscribable. 

**Log Entry #407  
** **Date: 1941 AD, New Year’s Eve**

Subject observed at a party in Morocco -- and once again in the company of the demon Crowley.

As I’ve explained in several (unanswered) memos to home office, large crowds of humans pose an enormous issue for me and my equipment. Grigori are designed for observing humans, after all, usually from a respectable distance; we were never meant to surveil our fellow angels and certainly not as they walk amongst the humans in corporeal form. In theory, I can make myself corporeal yet invisible, thus allowing me to still manipulate mortal-made instruments such as my camera... but using my powers in that way would cause me to show up like a bullet on an X-ray to anyone with extrasensory perception. Not to mention humans would still be able to bump into me.

Therefore, if I’m to document the subject colluding with an agent of Hell, it has to be done on foot, as it were. At least until R&D responds to my 1862 memo re: celestial _ cameras obscura_.

Fortunately, humans these days are accustomed to being photographed. I picked out a camera model I knew to be ubiquitous at such parties and corporealized myself outside the luxury hotel where the event was being held. I entered the courtyard garden and introduced myself to the party organizer as a freelance photographer. The human accepted me at once, although she commented on my unusual “costume” and asked if I was “really going to go around looking like that.” I’m very certain the cut of the suit I had manifested was contemporary and stylish, so I had no idea what she was on about.

After she set me loose, it took a bit of time to get through the crowds and find the subject again. I couldn’t sense his presence well while concealing my own nature, and the humans I passed were all _ very _ insistent I photograph them in various acts of debauchery. At about a quarter to midnight I finally located the subject seated at one of the cocktail tables in the rear part of the garden, enjoying champagne with demonic forces.

Without announcing myself, I raised the camera and photographed the pair of them. The moment the flash bulb went off, the demon shot out of his chair with his attention fixed on me. I’m recounting this after the fact so my wording isn’t precise, but what follows is my recollection of the encounter.

“Give me that,” said Crowley, coming round the table and reaching for my camera. I tried backing away, babbling an apology. Behind Crowley, the subject rose to his feet as well and called out to him.

“Crowley! Just let them be. It isn’t harming anything,” said the subject.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said the demon, and extended his hand toward my equipment again. Rather than grasp it, his fingers entered right _ through _ the camera’s casing and curled around the film within.

I cringed, my only thought at the moment being that I couldn’t allow him to touch any part of my body or he’d instantly know what I was. A second later he clicked his tongue and withdrew his hand from my camera.

“It’s all right,” Crowley reported to the subject as he returned to the table. “You’re glowing too much, angel. You blew out the entire shot.”

“I don’t recall _ blowing _ anything,” said the subject, although I did detect a slight decrease to his aura. “I think I’d remember if I did.”

“See, this is why I can’t take you anywhere. It’s saying things like that.”

For reasons unknown, my body suddenly felt many times heavier, and my knees began to give out beneath me. Despite my usual indifference to the cold, I felt a powerful chill run up and down my spine. Suspecting a malfunction with my earthly form, I fled toward the nearest exit, dropping my equipment en route. I wouldn’t realize it was missing till later.

Once I was a safe distance from the courtyard and had regained some control over the strange vibrations in my chest cavity, I decorporealized. Some connection to the mortal plane must have remained, because I continued to feel unsettled for several minutes.

From the site of the party, I heard a human announce that it was now 20 seconds to midnight. He was off by several seconds, but nevertheless the other partying humans began counting down. I flew up to my fallback position on the roof and managed to reestablish line of sight on the subject just as the countdown reached zero.

The humans cheered, opening containers of confetti and additional champagne. At their table in the corner, I saw the demon Crowley lean over in his chair and attempt to kiss the subject’s cheek. The subject reacted in surprise and pulled away. He tried to laugh off his own reaction, but his balance was so thrown he fell clear out of his seat, splashing champagne down the front of his dress.

Somehow, the two managed to have a lovely evening anyway.

**Log Entry #419  
** **Date: 1947 AD, June**

Subject has returned to London after several years abroad. I would cite the statutes and by-laws relating to dereliction of duty, but at this point I’m not sure who is even meant to be checking my work. I haven’t reported to my division archangel since the 800s and not a single person from head office has followed up on my memos. After the church bombing I thought for _ sure _ there were going to be inquiries, but no. Nothing.

It did seem like a funny assignment when they first gave it to me. Indefinite term, just keep an eye on the subject, log any performance issues, make sure he’s not fraternizing with the Great Tempter. No other Principality has remained on Earth as long as he has, so it stands to reason that home office might want him observed just as a Grigori might oversee a high-priority human. But if they were so concerned about it, wouldn’t they have asked me for, you know, a status update? At _ any _ point?

Maybe they’ve forgotten. That’s a thing humans like to say -- that Heaven has forgotten about them, because they don’t see our field agents working on their behalf. Got to have room for doubt in the Great Plan. But I’m not talking about _ Her _ forgetting, just… administration. The Almighty is perfect, all-knowing, infallible; angels are not any of those things.

Yeah, I know. Catch me submitting any of this if HQ ever checks up. But I’m a Grigori; I could tell you all about the stupid stuff angels get up to from time to time.

The demon Crowley called upon the subject at his bookshop the day of its reopening. Literally called upon -- the subject still had the protection wards up around the building and the demon couldn’t set foot inside without scalding himself, so he stood at the doorway and yelled inward. It was an invitation to lunch.

**Log Entry #423  
** **Date: 1951 AD, Christmas**

Subject and Crowley seen exchanging wrapped presents during a meeting at St. James Park. I assumed these to be contraband, but the contents of the demon’s parcel turned out to be a rare secular book, while the subject’s parcel contained a pair of knitted hand-garments. Subject pressured the demon until he agreed to wear them.

**Log Entry #470  
** **Date: 1967 AD, November**

Subject observed entering the vehicle of the demon Crowley and transferring a sealed container. I positioned myself across the street in order to obtain a photograph, but because the encounter occurred after sunset, it proved difficult to acquire enough light to capture the figures. I was also too far away to hear their exchange.

I considered aborting, but it occurred to me this might be a good opportunity to practice a human skill I had been studying -- ‘lip reading.’ Despite its name, it has little to do with text written upon mouths. Below is my best reconstruction of the conversation.

> **Subject:** I haven’t shaved my mind. But I rack apple listing your wife. Röntgen four something danger house. So toucan saw off the strawberry. Don’t go unspooling the cat.
> 
> **Crowley:** Zits are healing?
> 
> **Subject:** The holiness.
> 
> **Crowley:** Rafter every single shed?
> 
> [Subject nods]
> 
> **Crowley:** Shut-eye said hangul?
> 
> **Subject:** Better raw.
> 
> **Crowley:** Wool king isle double anywhere?
> 
> **Subject:** No, thank you. Oh, doubtless sophisticated. Perhaps wonder weakened, idle hill, gopher epic gnat. Dying at the rest.
> 
> **Crowley:** I’ll give you a lift. Fanny hair you want to go.
> 
> **Subject:** Bugle breakfast firming, Crowley.

Subject then exited the vehicle. Crowley remained seated inside for some time, examining the container subject had given him.

Protocol dictates that I pursue the subject, but I was more interested in trying to decipher the above transcription. Decades earlier I’d observed humans using similar codes to transmit messages to other humans, appropriating the meaning of common words to refer to specific things so that, even intercepted, their true purpose could not be discerned. The use of such a cipher between the subject and a demonic agent indicates they were aware of, or at least suspected, my presence.

Or my lip-reading is just not as good as I believed.

After approximately 20 minutes, Crowley was still observed seated in his car on the other side of the street. He appeared doubled over with pain, leaning across his steering wheel. I realize that the Fallen do not _ actually _ experience physical pain, that their evil natures make them immune to such things, but the performance was… incredibly convincing. I perhaps felt a bit sorry for him, just for a moment.

**Log Entry #472  
** **Date: 1971 AD, October**

Subject has not been observed in close regular contact with demonic forces since the events I detailed in entry #470. Subject still rings Hell’s agent on occasion, usually about once every 18 months. From a bug* placed in the subject’s bookshop, I’ve gathered that these are routine check-ins that keep each other apprised of their respective assignments. 

They’ve also kept up their annual Christmas gift exchange, although they’ve been trying to be more discreet about it lately. Dead drops in clandestine locations and all that. A complete list of items and dates of exchange follows below:

  * Secular book <-> Knit mittens (1951)
  * Secular book <-> Knit scarf (1952)
  * Pocket watch <-> Pocket watch (1953)
  * Bottle of wine <-> Knit cap (1954)
  * Chocolates <-> Bottle of spirits (1955)
  * Opera tickets <-> Peacoat (1956)
  * Antique snuff box <-> Silver bottle opener (1957)
  * Book of prophecy <-> Jewelry (1958)
  * Concert tickets <-> Leather gloves (1959)
  * French press <-> Tea cozy (1960)
  * Set of wine glasses <-> Bottle of wine (1961)
  * Secular book <-> Hashish (1962)
  * Shakespeare folio <-> Knit jumper (1963)
  * Polaroid camera <-> Portmeirion dinner plates (1964)
  * Theater tickets <-> Concert tickets (1965)
  * Secular book <-> Grecian vase (1966)
  * Stolen museum artifact <-> Wristwatch (1967)
  * Vinyl record <-> Silk pajamas (1968)
  * Moon rock <-> Jewelry (1969)
  * Bottle of spirits <-> Houseplant (1970)

I’ve been practicing my photography, recently investing in a telephoto lens and some long exposure film for low light shoots. I also picked up a lower end consumer model camera, just for the fun of it. I take it with me along with the celestial sketch pad when the subject is out on walks, as I find there’s not much else to keep myself busy with but snapping a few photos and sketching a little.

It was on one of these recent outings to Hyde Park that I decided to set up on a bench some 50 yards from the subject. The autumn sun was falling on the subject’s hair just right, so I set down my camera and opened my sketch pad, not with the intent to produce a perfectly accurate eidetic transcription but just do a few studies of the subject in profile.

Whilst I was immersed in this activity, a voice suddenly spoke up right behind me. This part of the encounter was not captured on tape, so it’s not verbatim.

“Well, if it isn’t Heaven’s favorite paparazzo,” said the voice. “Haven’t seen you since the Forties.”

At that moment, I felt the skin prickle along the back of my corporeal neck. I knew who the speaker was, of course. But I found I couldn’t force myself to turn around to look at him. I sat there, frozen, piece of charcoal hovering just off the paper of my celestial sketch pad.

The wood along the top of the bench creaked as the demon Crowley leaned his weight onto it.

“Let me guess. Grigori?” he continued. “Of course you are. They wouldn’t send a _ real _ angel down on a detail like this. Nice business back in Mesopotamia, by the way.”

As discreetly as I dared, I adjusted my elbow and managed to depress the ‘record’ button on the portable tape recorder within my rucksack. The rest of this is pulled directly from my recording.

I said, “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” said Crowley, mocking. “You’re a proper celestial being, you merely turned a professional blind eye while your mates did all the actual fornication. Is that why head office sent you down here, to see that our mutual friend isn’t succumbing to any bad influences?”

“I--”

“You know, you were quite clever for the most part. I don’t think he’s noticed you yet. That’s the trouble when you always assume the best out of your own people.”

I made what I must admit was a rather undignified noise.

The truth is, it wasn’t his demonic presence that frightened me. He had concealed his aura completely in order to sneak up on me, and even at this moment in the recording the most I was able to sense using my corporeal form was a low-lying malice. I had seen him intimidate mere humans with far less subtle tactics.

No, he frightened me for the same reason humans get frightened when they meet a television celebrity. It isn’t just the fact that they’re someone famous; it’s that you had always assumed they existed safely on the other side of the glass. At the other end of a camera lens. Occupying the same space as them upends your sense of reality, tilts it several degrees to the left. You think: _ If he and I can both exist, something must be horribly wrong with the fabric of the universe. _

I’d felt it in Morocco, too. I just hadn’t realized _ what _ I was feeling.

I said, “I’m replaceable. If you destroy me, they’ll just send someone else.” Or at any rate, Heaven might finally remember I was even down here.

The demon laughed.

“You know, you’re not half-bad with these,” Crowley said. He leaned even further forward, I assume to peer at the contents of my celestial sketch pad, my smudged charcoal figures. “There’s just no life to ‘em. Why not try drawing from your imagination now and again?”

And just like that, as spontaneously as he had appeared, the demon Crowley left. He didn’t vanish, just sauntered back the way he had come, toward The Serpentine. If he had intended to come and speak with the subject and changed his mind, or simply happened upon me by chance, I suppose I’ll never know.

Personally I’m in favor of a third theory: He routinely checks up on <strike>his angel</strike> the subject even when the two aren’t otherwise being social. I’ve noticed this behavior off and on since the 1200s. I believe the fire in Constantinople started it.

At any rate, I should probably be more discreet on future outings.

*Obviously not an ordinary insect. Since my lip-reading still apparently has a ways to go, and being physically present is usually much too dangerous, I’ve been looking into some more recent human technologies. This technique I’ve borrowed from humans involves transferring a small fragment of my essence onto the back of a house fly or spider, which then positions itself on a surface (such as a ceiling) near the subject and delivers the audio straight into my head. 

**Log Entry #476  
** **Date: 1986 AD, December**

The <strike>annual gift exchange has stopped</strike> annual meetings in St. James Park, of which the regular Christmas gifts were one feature, have stopped. I do not know if this is solely the result of my surveillance, but I assume it played a part. I also have to assume the subject is now fully aware of my existence, if not necessarily when and where I surveil him.

I feel dreadful about it, honestly. I mean, yes, he’s a traitor against Heaven, it’s a wonder he hasn’t Fallen already, but that’s not really any business of mine, is it? As far as I’ve seen, neither he nor the demon Crowley actually have that much to do with the course of human events. I’ve even heard them talking about it on occasion, usually when they’re drunk and less concerned about their surroundings.

Well, the getting drunk together has stopped, and it’s awful. They’re both miserable about it. On the rare occasion the two end up at the same concert or museum, they studiously avoid one another. Stealing glances when the other’s back is turned, that sort of thing.

And it’s all my fault. 

Do you have any idea what it’s like, being self-conscious as a Grigori?

An aside: Since the M25 opened this October, I’ve noticed a strange uptick in the ambient evil readings in and around central London. Maybe it’s just all the extra car exhaust.

**Log Entry #477  
** **Date: 1991 AD, December**

Crowley is a mess. Every time he gets a commendation for one of his diabolical schemes, I see him starting to ring the subject to tell him the good news, but hanging up before it connects. Then he’ll go to the nearest pub and blow through half a dozen bottles of top shelf stuff all by his lonesome.

I know. He’s damned. He suffers every moment he exists outside the Almighty’s light, etc. Not to mention he threatened me personally.* But he turns a special sort of pathetic when he hasn’t seen the subject in a while. Thinking back, I’m sure I’ve documented it in past centuries as well, but it’s definitely more pronounced now.

The subject isn’t doing much better, mind. He gets by, does his work, runs his shop on occasion. But he doesn’t get out as much anymore. And he’s never as adventurous with his food as he is when he has company.

It’s enough to start tearing one’s hair out. I brought this upon them; there has to be a way for me to fix it, surely?

*Sort of. Not really. Actually, his criticism of my sketch work turned out to be very helpful. I held a small gallery showing last spring and even sold a few paintings. One buyer told me my celestial portraits were “very creative.”

**Log Entry #480  
** **Date: 1995 AD, June**

There is a thing humanity calls the “observer effect,” which is when humans modify their behavior based on the knowledge that they are being watched.

This is different from the _ perception _ of observation, which forms the basis of a lot of religious doctrine. Humans don’t actually know when an ethereal being is watching them, and I imagine some of them would be quite put out to learn that we _ aren’t_, by and large.

It’s a numbers game, really. There’s six billion of them and ten million of us. And only the lower ranked angels do much of the actual watching.

But the observer effect is different. It’s when you know with absolute dead certainty that someone is watching you, and that they’re probably keeping score. That’s what happened to my subjects, and there’s no way I can take it back. Even if I were to tell them, no worries, I’m not filing any of this, why would they ever believe me? Angels aren’t built to deceive, but Grigori have a _ reputation_.

The best I’ve come up with so far is to just stop my surveillance. Leave London for a bit, go to the country and work on my art. Announce to them as loudly as I can via my absence that they have nothing to worry about from me.

But it’s not enough. You can’t just wipe away all that paranoia once it’s been planted. So I’ve been thinking lately of some more proactive ways to get the two together again.

My best ideas, so far:

  * Anonymously leave tickets at their residences for a gallery opening. (Unreliable. Crowley doesn’t often read his mail.)
  * Arrange the delivery of a rare book at the subject’s shop, with a falsified note claiming to be from Crowley. (Unreliable. I don’t know what a demon’s handwriting looks like and I can’t possibly know more about rare books than the subject.)
  * Wait until they are present at the same farmer’s market and then somehow drive them together via crowd manipulation. (Possible, but I have very little experience herding humans.)
  * Falsify summons from their respective head offices and then arrange for them to be stuck in the same elevator. (Unlikely, unless I can somehow get hold of Hell’s official letterhead.)
  * Lure them to a remote cabin in winter and then strand them there in a snowstorm. (Extremely unlikely. But exciting.)
  * Hire one of those sky writer planes. (Unreliable. English weather.)
  * Stage the arrival of the Antichrist, compelling them to come together despite the threat of surveillance out of a mutual desire to preserve the Earth, humanity, and their relationship with each other. (Obviously not.)
  * Inspire a 3 to 5 minute song in a contemporary style that will cause them to think of each other when they hear it on the radio. (Unreliable. I don’t think either of them actually enjoy any of the music that’s come out in the last century. Unless you count Crowley with his Velvet Underground, which I do not.)
  * Inspire a film they will both want to watch, then insert subliminal messages encouraging them to be friends again. (Very feasible, except the last film the subject attended was _The Exorcist_, which he only went to see because he assumed it was a documentary. He’s sworn off cinema since.)

This imagination thing, it’s tougher than the demon let on.

I may just try all of them and see what sticks. Except the Apocalypse one. Obviously.

**Log Entry #488  
** **Date: 2008 AD, August XXth**

I DID IT. YES. THEY FINALLY MET UP AGAIN.

Actually, I can’t say for certain whether it was through any of my efforts (although they did end up both seeing the film I inspired for them). I’m sure that laying off the constant surveillance for a couple decades helped.

Whatever the case, they met at St. James Park this afternoon. Their usual spot, near the Memorial Gardens. I grabbed my DSLR with the EF 100-300mm zoom lens and a directional microphone (which ended up not working, bloody East German hand-me-down) and set up just down the path from them, far enough that my disguised corporeal form would not attract their attention, but close enough to get a clear line of sight on them both.

I must’ve taken 30 or 40 shots, my hands were shaking so much. Crowley’s new hair is… well, a _ choice_. Certainly better than his 1390s style. <strike>Azira</strike> The subject looks the same as ever, of course.

I caught a few words lip-reading -- old habits die hard -- but I know better than to rely on that now. Crowley seemed to be the one who called the meeting, based on their body language. Neither appeared too fussed about surveillance, at least not any moreso than they used to prior to my mishap.

I did get a tap on my shoulder at one point from a very cross-looking Ukranian agent, but when I assured him I was there for someone else, he left me well enough alone.

The meeting was one of their longer ones. When it concluded, I tailed them at a respectable distance through the park and then up the steps towards Trafalgar Square, where they stopped and appeared ready to part ways. Crowley must’ve gotten the subject to reconsider, because a minute later they both got into the demon’s car and drove off.

They’re driving off together and it’s early afternoon. That means they’re going to lunch. 38 years with barely any contact from each other and now _ they’re going to lunch_.

If they go to lunch, they’ll almost certainly get drinks after. If they’re drinking, it will be back at the subject’s bookshop. I know I should be giving them some peace, but… I really have to know what caused them to finally get back together, now of all times. Just _ one _ little bug planted in the bookshop isn’t harming anything, surely?

ATTACHED: [Subject seated alongside known demonic agent Crowley at St. James’ Park, London. Note: Heart shapes not in original.]

ADDENDUM:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

They went to The Ritz! That’s _ so classy_. Oh, my heart’s so full right now. I’m not even corporeal but I feel like I need to lie down for a minute. Oh my _ God_. This is like the oysters in Rome x10.

They’re hanging out in the back of <strike>Aziraph</strike> the subject’s bookshop now. The bug isn’t placed too well (it’s currently crawling around above some shelves), but the audio is better than nothing. When’s the last time they got well and truly smashed together, 1626?

ADDENDUM:

Oh my God they’ve been talking about dolphins and gorillas for like five minutes now _ stop _

ADDENDUM:

Shit.

So that’s why they met up.

**Log Entry #489  
** **Date: 2008 AD, September**

I’ve been giving things a lot of thought. Also, drinking. Two T H O U S A N D years on this Earth and I never tried drinking before. Beginning to understand how Crowley and <strike>the subj</strike> Aziraphale both turned into high-functioning alcoholics.

Anyway, the thinking. I mean, if I turn this all over to Raguel now she’s going to ask why I wasn’t reporting this 800-1,200 years earlier. IMO it’s her fault for never checking up, but like hell she’ll see it that way. And even if she somehow does, what then? It’s still Armageddon. It’s still the END TIMES.

Can’t interfere with the Divine Plan. Well, isn’t it interfering if I report on them? There’s that observer effect again. As long as I keep out of things, it’ll all play out how it’s meant to. And in the meantime Crowley and Aziraphale will be seeing much more of each other, which obviously is how it’s supposed to go.

**Log Entry #492  
** **Date: 2008 AD, Christmas**

The gift exchanges are back. This year Crowley got Aziraphale a smartphone. He tried to act like it was just so they could keep in contact in case their landlines were tapped. It was cute.

Knowing Aziraphale, it’ll just turn into a paperweight like most of Crowley’s tech gifts. But he’ll never get rid of it. He never gets rid of anything Crowley gives him.

Aziraphale’s gift to Crowley, meanwhile, was a very lovely new umbrella. The handle’s fashioned like a peacock. Crowley never allows rain to touch him unless he wants it to, so I very much doubt he’ll have much use for it, but you never know. He got the wickedest grin on his face when he saw it.

Ahhhhh… I’m so happy. Reckon that’s a bad thing to be in these circumstances, but I can’t help it.

**Log Entry #548  
** **Date: 2013 AD, April**

They’ve moved onto the next phase of their plan, the wiling and thwarting part. This is where the rubber meets the road, as Crowley might say.

I’m not… 100% sold on the looks they’re both going with, if I’m going to be honest. I know for a fact Crowley can be much sexier than that. But he’s right, no one is going to suspect a thing.

I might, erm, have to help Aziraphale a bit with the gardening, though. Just on the sly. I don’t think his back’s up to it in that form.

**Log Entry #601  
** **Date: 2017 AD, September**

Nanny and Brother Francis left yesterday. Today, the Antichrist child gained two private tutors. I quite like these new looks for them. For some reason I always believed Aziraphale would look good in argyle, even though I’ve never actually seen him in it before now.

Crowley’s gone back to a short haircut. I rather miss the bun, but I suppose when your hair color’s that distinctive you have to do what you can to avoid being recognized. Hoping he’ll lose the side part, though.

**Log Entry #664  
** **Date: 2019 AD, August XXth**

How. Does one. _ Mislay. _ The Antichrist.

**Log Entry #665  
** **Date: 2019 AD, August XXth**

So.

Someone at head office finally decided it was time to check up.

That’s it, then. There’s no way I’m going through almost 2,000 years of notes and scrubbing them clean of policy violations. Maybe if I had more time, but that’s not a thing any of us have much of these days. Anyway, I’m in deep enough as it is.

I just… really don’t think I did anything that bad? Grigori are _ supposed _ to watch and not interfere. It’s not like I was down here siring abominations or whatever. All I did was take a few photos.

But, well, it’s all in my superiors’ hands now. 

* * *

**To:** Me  
**From:** Raguel  
**CC:** Zophiel, Raziel, Michael [+5 others]  
**Sent:** August XXth 2019 09:19 AM UTC  
**Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Earth policy enforcement**

Rezathaniel,

Thank you for your cooperation. I’m obligated to inform you that it will not have any bearing upon the Circle’s decision, but it’s appreciated, nevertheless.

You are hereby removed from Special Reconnaissance and relieved of your duties. You will remain confined to your quarters until further notice.

Best,

Archangel Raguel

~~~~~~~~~~~~*~*~*~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You can’t have a war without War.”

\--Archangel Sandalphon

~~~~~~~~~~~~*~*~*~~~~~~~~~~~~

* * *

**Log Entry #???  
** **Date: 2019 AD, August XXth**

Haven’t seen this room in actual millennia. They’ve turned most of it into a supply closet. Can hardly sit down in here.

Wish they’d at least let me keep the celestial sketch pad. Had to turn it over to Inventory, _ and _ all my cameras, plus the canvases and paints. Even made me give up the passcode on my phone and forced me to delete my Instagram, because Heaven forbid I be allowed even one thing to stave off the boredom in this place. Literally, Heaven forbids it.

They have to at least let me out to fight, don’t they? Seems like sort of an all-hands-on-deck type of situation.

Gonna be real awkward running into Aziraphale after this. I mean, we never spoke back before time was created, never had a reason to, but I can’t see any situation where he doesn’t know just who got him dragged back here. “Hey, Aziraphale, sorry about invading your privacy for 2,000 years, never thought you’d get called up on it, it’s just that you and your greatest enemy looked so happy when you were defying God together.” Ugh. Maybe if I’m lucky, some demon will run me through with a hot poker first.

**Log Entry #???  
** **Date: 2019 AD, August XXth**

Feels like something should have happened by now.

**Log Entry #???  
** **Date: 2019 AD, August XXth**

They came by and let me out of quarters today. Thought for sure I’d be dropped down the nearest elevator shaft, but instead there was just… nothing. As if none of it had ever happened.

I asked what I was supposed to do now and no one had an answer. “Just go back to work,” they said, except I’m pretty sure my surveillance detail is still cancelled. And I’m not Special Recon anymore anyway.

And even if I were, fact is, Heaven doesn’t appear to have had its war. Which means it’s almost definitely made an example of the ones responsible for that. So I really doubt I have a subject to surveil anymore.

I suppose I could… pop down to check? I mean. I shouldn’t, I absolutely shouldn’t, you can’t just go down to Earth without authorization.

But it’s not like anyone’ll notice.

**Log Entry #???  
** **Date: 2019 AD, August XXth**

Oh my God I missed it.

I don’t know what it was but _ I missed it_. There is no punishment Heaven can render that is worse than this.

Crowley and Aziraphale are together. _ Together _ together.

I cannot believe. I watched this pair for two thousand years and the moment I’m not looking, _ they hook up_.

Or, not hooked up, exactly, I’m not sure human language is a good analogue here. It’s like their essences are intermingled now? Honestly have no idea how that’s supposed to work between an angel and a demon, if that’s even what they are anymore.

What did it. Seriously, _ what did it_. When I last saw them they were having their biggest row since the 13th century, arguing about running off to the stars and such. It hurt to watch them, so finally I just didn’t, and that’s when Raguel called me in. Worst bloody timing in the world.

Crowley must’ve apologized first. He always does, even when he’s not at fault. But then what, did they just go make up over a cup of tea whilst the world was ending around them? No way. There had to have been some mutual rescuing, and maybe a confession, possibly an embrace??

I JUST. CAN’T BELIEVE I MISSED IT.

If I congratulate them, would that be too weird? No, definitely too weird. A discreet gift? Creepy. Blessing? Can’t really do those…

AUGH, THIS SUCKS. I know them so well but they don’t know me at all and I can’t just walk up to them all, “Hey guys, great job on averting the Apocalypse, I know I didn’t technically have any part in that BUT ALSO TECHNICALLY I DID because I suppressed evidence against you for two thousand years, even if it was just kind of unintentional. So great job, us. Let’s say we all go grab a pint together, hey? Would LOVE to hear how you two ended up with your essences slathered all over each other.”

Yeah. Not happening.

Maybe I should just… leave them alone for a bit? That’s probably the mature thing to do. I mean, this is all-new territory for them, too. They don’t need somebody like me cheering them from the sidelines. Especially, uh, someone who probably helped get them in trouble in the first place.

Should go see if I can reactivate my Insta, first off. Can’t _ believe _ Heaven confiscated my phone; do they even realize I can’t just miracle money out of thin air like Principalities can? I’ll have to sell some more paintings. Christ, I’ll need to _ make _ some new paintings. That part will be fun, at least. Got plenty of material now.

I’ll check back in, mmm, a few years. Decade, maybe. Just to see how they’re getting on.

…

…

…

Who am I kidding, I’m not going to last a week. Going to need some new ground rules for myself, though. They deserve _ some _ privacy, and I haven’t exactly given them much of that these last two thousand years.

Lord, what if they _ hold hands in public _ though.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on Twitter! I'm [@robotdere](https://twitter.com/robotdere).
> 
> By popular demand, [there's now a sequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487023/chapters/48615116).


End file.
